Elevator
by Higuchimon
Summary: [one-shot, Yu-Gi-Oh Pairings Challenge Season 12, Malik x Shaadi/Shaadi x Malik, Defershipping] Malik just wants to get home and have some rest and dinner. A broken elevator will interrupt. Or is it the person in the elevator?


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
**Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters  
**Title:** Elevator  
**Pairing:** Shaadi x Malik  
**Word Count:** 2,418||**Status:** One-shot  
**Genre:** General||**Rated:** PG  
**Challenge:** Yu-Gi-Oh Pairings Challenge, Season 12, Round 4: Shaadi x Malik/Malik x Shaadi: Defershipping  
**Summary:** [one-shot, Yu-Gi-Oh Pairings Challenge Season 12, Malik x Shaadi/Shaadi x Malik, Defershipping] Malik just wants to get home and have some rest and dinner. A broken elevator will interrupt. Or is it the person in the elevator?

* * *

Malik made certain no one else was in the elevator when he got into it. As the doors closed, he slumped back against the far wall and shut his eyes, trying not to think of anything in particular and not doing a very good job of it. Running an international crime syndicate, while also searching for someone who might not even _exist_ yet, took its toll on him. He didn't like remembering the fact he was barely sixteen and had been at this since shortly after leaving the tombs with very little to show for it. There would be success. There _would_ be a way out of this doom for himself, Rishid, and Isis.

His back twinged at the thought of it. Even with the scars healed for years, at times he felt as if they liked to remind him that they were there. That he could not escape his destiny, no matter how much he wanted to.

Slowly the elevator rose upward, floor by floor, and Malik paid just enough attention to make certain no one else boarded. He didn't want to see anyone else. He wanted to get up to the fifth floor and get to his room and go to sleep. The Ghouls could run themselves for one night. How difficult could it be to find rare cards and take them from the idiots who wielded them? His duelists were the finest in the world, after all.

He also wanted something in the way of tea to drink, and perhaps even something to eat. This wasn't the kind of hotel that amazingly wealthy people patronized, but it still had decent room service, if Rishid wasn't available. He couldn't remember if his brother would be there or not right now. Either way, something in the vegetable line sounded like it would ease the cramps in his stomach admirably.

Rishid kept telling him that he needed to eat more. Malik dismissed it every time; more often than not, he didn't have the _time_ to eat. There was always something to do that was far more important than having a sandwich.

Still, he was going to take tonight off, and have something to eat, and maybe work through his own deck a little. He'd spent enough time tweaking the decks of those who served him. He needed to make sure of his own. He would have to duel, sooner or later, to get this sorted out, and he needed to be at the top of his game.

A sudden shriek of abused metal yanked him out of his thoughts and his head snapped up just in time to see the glimmering lights indicating which floor they were on go dim. The overhead light in the elevator flickered a few heartbeats later, replaced by a faded red light that came from small bulbs set in the walls and floor.

"What in the…" He'd read enough magazines and books to know about elevators stopping, but this was the first time that it had ever happened to him. He rubbed his eyes; why did this have to happen now? Couldn't it have waited until he was in his room and didn't have to worry about it?

Wait, shouldn't there be a phone in here somewhere? He recalled hearing something about those and started to look around for any sign of one. It only took a moment or two before he slammed his hand against one of the panels and it fell to the side to reveal the phone.

_Good. I won't be in here long._ He wasn't going to spend more than he had to being stuck in a hot box with neither cool air nor decent food. So far as he was concerned, he'd already spent more time there than he really needed to anyway.

Unfortunately, whatever had stopped the elevator seemed to have done for the phone as well, which didn't even give off a dial tone. Malik stared at it in disbelief. Which god had he offended in order for this to happen?

_I've probably offended most of them._ He wasn't sure how to go about gaining their forgiveness, either. Nor did he know if he actually could, given that he was trapped in an elevator with no way to contact the outside world.

Perhaps he should've looked into those mobile phones he'd begun to hear about. It would've at least given him an option of some kind.

"Tombkeeper."

Malik led the Ghouls, the most subversive and deadly group of dueling criminals the world knew. He had had his back carved up as a birthday ritual. He knew fear. He knew terror. Nothing could scare him worse than events that already had.

In no way that did that stop him from breathing in harshly, in a way that didn't at all sound like a terrified shriek. And if necessary, he would've used the Millennium Rod's dagger to make certain no one ever made that accusation.

He knew for a fact no one else had boarded the elevator. He'd made certain that no one else did. And yet there the other stood next to Malik, tall and turbaned and robed, staring at him with large eyes and a quiet demeanor that somehow pierced directly into Malik's soul.

Malik didn't want anyone probing around in there. He didn't especially like being in there himself. Especially not in situations like this, when he could only barely see what was going on around him.

That was something he'd done his best to avoid thinking about until now. He was in the dark. The _dark_. The dark that looked at him and called to him and he kept at bay with all of his heart.

He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it wasn't an easy task, especially with the stranger that he recalled from the one time they'd crossed paths once more, impossibly, standing there.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Malik's hand whipped behind his back to seize the Millennium Rod, ready to force the other to answer if he needed to.

The stranger only smiled, or at least his lips moved upward. The expression didn't look very friendly. Nor, oddly enough, did it look hostile. Neutral was the only word that described it well enough.

"I mean you no harm. I wish only to see how you are progressing."

Malik recognized all over again, as he had on that day years earlier, that this too was someone chosen by the Millennium Items. The Millennium Ankh hung around his neck and the Scales rested in one hand.

"Why do you care?" Malik trusted two people in the entire world, and neither of them were this person. "Who are you?"

The stranger shrugged, a slight movement of his shoulders, nothing more. "A servant, just as you are."

That didn't answer any of Malik's questions, not the way he wanted them answered. He took a step forward, the Rod still held firmly in his hand. "What's your name?"

"I tell that to few people. You have not yet won it." His lips tilted upward a fraction once more. It slightly resembled a friendlier smile this time. "Though perhaps you could. You are not like him, but it is not impossible."

"Like who?" Malik liked games to some extent. He didn't like playing them when he didn't know the rules, or what the game even was.

He also didn't like playing them in the dark. Something was _there_ in the dark, and he needed the lights on, the sooner the better, the _brighter_ the better.

"The Pharaoh's host."

Malik's breath caught in his throat. He existed. He was out there, somewhere. "Who? Where?" He needed to know this, more than he'd needed anything in his entire life.

The other, however, only shook his head. "You will find him."

Malik raised the Rod, determined to find out what the other knew, and too impatient to wait another moment. The stranger made no threatening moves, as if he either didn't know what this Item could do, or didn't care.

"You fear the shadows." He spoke softly, eyes touching Malik's once again, and again Malik would easily believe the other knew much of him that Malik didn't know about himself.

"This isn't about me." It wasn't, not the usual sense. This was about what he wanted, what he needed to do.

And preferably, about getting out of here as fast as he could so he could continue to do it.

Something else occurred to him just then and he growled deep and low in his throat. "Are you the one that stopped this thing?" He gestured with his free hand, indicating the elevator, the red-tinged shadows, and the phone that hung there useless.

Again that faint breath of a smile, less neutral this time, more amused. Malik wanted to batter through his mind until there was nothing left of any defenses and no secrets hidden from him, until he could see everything the stranger hid, until he knew the _answers_ hiding behind that smile. But even as he began to reach for the power of the Rod, the other reached out one hand, brushing the tips of his fingers across Malik's shoulder.

"I did not. But it provided a way to speak to you."

Malik didn't believe him. Not for a moment. Those chosen by the Items had access to many strange powers, not always restricted to those of the Games of Darkness. He'd focused most of his learning on how to use the Millennium Rod, but he'd learned of the existence of other skills, said to be used in ancient times by the Pharaoh's priests and magicians. If this person had access to that old magic, then he could do as he pleased.

"You could've waited until I was in my room." Malik didn't care if he sounded sulky. He was hungry. He could be as sulky as he wished.

He didn't care to hear any other excuses, and didn't object one bit that the stranger –he really wanted his name!- didn't try to give any. Instead, he simply kept looking at Malik, as if the blond were the most interesting being that he'd ever seen.

Malik knew himself. He knew he was fascinating, rare in his coloring, and unique in many ways. But the way this stranger looked at him was unlike the way anyone else ever had, and he stared back, challenge written in every line of his body. The other hadn't dropped his hand yet, still resting on Malik's shoulder. So few people touched him; so few people _dared_ to touch him that the presence sent strange sparks skittering all through him.

_I would've thought he'd be warm._ Weren't other people warm? Isis and Rishid were. His father had been. Everyone who he could remember actually touching him was. But these fingers held very little of that warmth. They weren't freezing, by any means, but there was a distinctive coolness there nevertheless.

"You're strange." Malik saw no reason to beat around the bush here. Strange wasn't even a strong enough word. He didn't know if such a word existed, but if it did, he would've applied it without hesitation. "Is there anything else that you want?"

Malik knew emotions. They were fairly useful in figuring out how best to manipulate others. People cared about others; he'd learned that first and foremost. That gave a foundation for him to work with; did they wish to impress those they cared about? Protect them? Stay away from them for any number of reasons?

Try as he might, even as he pressed himself toward the other with the power of the Rod, he couldn't pick up anything from him. He showed no more emotion than the walls around them did, and that proved true inside and out.

No, it wasn't that he didn't _show_ any emotion. Malik couldn't _find_ any emotion, no matter how hard he looked. His eyes narrowed, pressing further, until he encountered a wall that reminded him of thick gray stone and long years underground. He reeled back mentally and shook his head, swallowing hard.

"What are you?" This could not be a human. He'd never met one who had such walls in their mind, and it unnerved him more than he wanted to think about.

"No one you need worry yourself over." The other gathered himself together, standing a fraction straighter. "We will meet again, Malik Ishtar."

Between one blink and the next, and Malik wasn't even certain at the time if he even blinked at all, the man in the robe vanished. Malik stared at where he'd stood, wondering if it had even happened at all. The red lights faded, replaced by the ordinary warm ones, and the elevator rose again, as smoothly as if whatever had happened hadn't at all.

_Liar. He did stop it._

When the elevator reached the fifth floor, the doors opened with the familiar ding, and Malik drew in a sharp breath, stepping out.

"Master Malik?" Rishid stood only a short distance away, a frown on his scarred features. Oh, so he would be there that night. "Is everything all right?"

It took a moment for Malik to snap back into full awareness, reminding himself of who he was and what he was. "Of course." No one else needed to know about this little encounter. It might not have even happened. He could've just drifted off out of sheer hunger and tiredness and had a dream while on the way up. Or a hallucination.

Rishid's attention dropped from Malik to the Rod in his hand, but he said nothing at all. Malik followed his gaze long enough to realize what he was looking at, then carefully tucked the Rod back into his jeans. He didn't bother giving any explanations as he headed down toward their room. What no one else knew wasn't their business, especially since he couldn't even prove that it had actually happened. For all that he knew there was far more to the world than most people could possibly imagine, this still stretched his credulity just a little more than he liked. That a card game based off ancient rituals could hold great magical powers far beyond what the average person guessed didn't bother him one little bit. Mysterious men appearing in elevators for virtually no reason at all? That he hesitated over.

He realized only as he entered the room that he still didn't know what the stranger's name was.

**The End**


End file.
